Skylar-Robbins-The-Mystery-of-the-Hidden-Jewels

I held up my index finger signing, 1, and fingerspelled, S-E-C. Then I bolted up the spiral staircase to my office, knowing Smack would demand to search it next. A minute later the railing creaked as his heavy feet pounded up the stairs. I stood in the doorway to my office with my arms folded across my chest. “Find anything?” I asked with one eyebrow raised. “Not yet,” he snapped, glaring at me. “Well look around,” I said, gesturing around my little office while I backed up against the cupboard with the false ceiling. There was no way this guy would have an ultraviolet flashlight. Smack couldn’t possibly imagine there might be a message written on the wall in invisible ink. But still. “Be my guest,” I said nicely. Smack nosed around my office, pretending to look for faulty wiring. He plugged a small device into the two electrical outlets and waited for the readings to register, nodding his head each time. “You’re good,” he grumbled before marching back down the stairs. He didn’t know how good I was. I was so far ahead of those guys it wasn’t even funny. When I walked back into my bedroom Alexa and I stared at each other. “He gives me the creeps,” she whispered. ME TOO, I signed, making a Y with my hand and moving it back and forth between us. “Smack and his crew are always snooping around when they should be working,” I whispered. “Did you tell your parents?” “No way. You know my mom panics when she thinks about me doing anything dangerous. And I have a feeling taking on these guys might qualify as dangerous.” “You think?” Alexa looked worried. “Relax. I won’t get into trouble. We’re going to follow the clues and figure out where the jewels are hidden before they do. You with me?” Alexa hesitated before she slowly nodded. She was right to be afraid. We started our English homework and I read the chapter on verbs out loud while Alexa stared at me, listening carefully like she always did when we studied together. She kneaded the squishy ball, and when we got to the quiz at the end, she got almost every answer right. Now if she could just remember everything she’d learned when we got to class in the morning. “I can’t study anymore,” Alexa announced after an hour. “My brain’s stuffed.” “That’s OK, we’re done with English and I can finish my essay later. Want to see the map now?”

My heart started to race and Alexa’s cheeks turned pink. “Yes.” “Follow me.” I led the way up the spiral staircase and we walked into my office. Pulling the metal box out of my desk, I unlocked it and took out the taped-together bird’s nest clue. “Wow,” Alexa breathed, looking at the map. “Those are the papers you found in the gazebo?” “Uh-huh,” I nodded, holding them carefully. “They’re really fragile. Let’s go downstairs and make a better copy.” We ran down the two flights of stairs and went into my dad’s gadget room. “This looks just like a real laboratory,” Alexa said, staring at one side of what used to be the ballroom. A long counter ran down that wall, covered with beakers and test tubes and burners and microscopes. “That’s because it is a real laboratory.” Alexa looked at me and made a face. On the opposite side of the room, my dad’s electric train set covered a big wooden table. When I flipped the switch, the train zipped through tunnels, in between potted plants, behind the aquarium, and past a clay model that he’d sculpted of his own head. There was a big art piece on another wall that he made out of an old railroad sign and chunks of a train car he’d found at the junkyard. He welded it all together into a cool abstract that he called, “Train.” When we first moved in he made a huge table out of scrap wood that sat in the middle of the room, covered with his “treasures.” Sometimes my mom called it “his junk.” This made both my dad and me mad. I loved his treasures and liked to collect my own. The first time she made the junk comment my dad told her she was too practical and needed to learn to think outside the box. He meant she should try to see things differently, and told her she should try new things: Explore. Be adventuresome! My mom tried a new recipe for dinner that night to prove that she could think outside the box. “I love this room,” Alexa said, looking around. “Your dad’s so cool.” “Thanks.” I smiled. “He really is. I’ve always loved his gadget room. I used to dig around in it in our old house when I was little and I’d always discover some hidden, unexpected thing. Like once I found a folded-up hundred-dollar bill in the caboose of his old train set. He’d just stuck it in there for fun and when I found it, he split it with me and let me put fifty dollars in my savings account. My grandpa and my dad both taught me to look everywhere for clues. I never know what I’ll turn up if I search hard enough.” “I wish my dad was creative and knew how to teach me things like yours did,” Alexa said wistfully. “Mine’s such a—he’s so boring.” I knew she was

trying hard not to call him a jerk. “Maybe you need to teach him how to see things differently.” “Maybe I can someday,” Alexa said hopefully, looking around the room. Neat stuff that my dad dug up in the desert rested on shelves: fossils, ancient rocks, and an Indian arrowhead. He loved art, and the walls were covered with oil paintings, collages he’d put together, projects I’d made since kindergarten, and a scientific chart of the elements. Another wall was hidden by floor-to- ceiling bookshelves containing Encyclopedias, chemistry journals, over a hundred issues of Scientific American, construction manuals, and how-to books for do-it-yourselfers. Across from the bookshelves there was a long desk topped with messy stacks of my dad’s papers, a computer, and a printer. I turned on the printer and scanned the taped-together map. Moments later a grainy gray picture popped out. Alexa looked at it and frowned. I adjusted the brightness and contrast and hit print again. The machine spit out another page. The torn pieces of map had become one, and I had a good copy in my hand. “Sweet,” Alexa said. “Except there’s a chunk missing,” I answered, looking at the map. Alexa bent over the photocopy. “We’ll figure it out. Without the missing piece,” she said confidently. “X marks the spot,” I said, pointing at it. “But where do we start to look for X?” “Can I see?” Alexa picked up the map and stared at it. “Let’s go back upstairs,” she suggested. We went back up to my office to work on the clue. I spread the map out on my desk and stared at it with the annoying woodpecker tapping at my brain again. The footstep pattern, the circles in and around them, the hexagon, and the rectangle had a familiarity that bugged me. Knowing that I had the ability to figure it out and that the answer was hiding in my brain was driving me crazy. The map sat silently on my desk, teasing me. After staring at it some more, the disturbing feeling that this was a familiar pattern got worse. “Can I look at it again?” Alexa picked up the map, staring at the paper and then stepping sideways around my little office as she looked out all of the narrow windows. I scanned the yard and gazed down into the canyon. The sun began to set, casting long shadows and an orangey glow across the mountains. Suddenly Alexa caught her breath. “Skylar—come here!” “Girls? Dinner,” my mom called. My head whipped from one side of the room to the other. I looked at Alexa and then toward my door. We were completely out of time.

23 A Rusty Metal Box “Just a second,” I shouted, hurrying over to where Alexa stood at the window. “Look! Down there.” She pointed toward the greenhouse, then at the rectangle on the map. “And there.” Alexa pointed to a tree near the gazebo, and then to one of the circles on the map. I looked into the backyard. The back of my neck prickled. Suddenly the circles, the hexagon, and the rectangle in between the footsteps made sense. They stood for trees, the gazebo, and the greenhouse. Alexa had just figured out where to take footstep number one. My mom shouted for us again and I groaned, knowing we couldn’t wait another second to go downstairs. “It’s OK,” Alexa said. “We’ll get right back to it after we eat.” We gobbled down dinner as fast as we could, desperate to get into the backyard and follow the footstep map before it got too dark. My parents kept interrupting our fast chewing with questions. “So did Dustin give you an answer about the dance?” My mom twirled spaghetti around her fork. “Mm-hm,” I said, chewing a huge bite. “He’s going.” My mom smiled. “He’s pretty smart after all, isn’t he?” I rolled my eyes and took a swallow of milk. “I guess he’d rather go to the dance with me than Emelyn.” This gave me a rush. “Who’s Emelyn?” my dad asked. “This flirty blonde girl from Florida. She asked him to ditch fifth period and go to the mall so she could steal a game for him, but he turned her down.” I chewed a mouthful of salad. My mom set down her fork. “How do you know that?” “He must have, because I have fifth period with him and that’s when he said he’d go to the dance with me.” “I mean how do you know she asked him to go to a store and accept stolen merchandise?” She looked at me quietly while she waited for me to answer. Uh-oh. I had just opened my big mouth a little too wide in front of my mom, the professor. Now I had to give her a complete answer or I’d get grilled on the details. The sun started to disappear behind the mountains. We didn’t have much time. “I overheard her in the bathroom. She told her friends she was going to ask Dustin to ditch his next class and go to Gamers, where the clerk is her brother’s

friend and would hide the security camera for her if she wanted to take something. Fifth period is Science, and he came to class, so he didn’t go with her.” I twirled spaghetti and waited for her next question. I knew what it would be. “Did you report her?” my mom asked. Both of my parents had totally stopped eating and were staring at me. I heard Alexa swallowing milk. “No.” I had such a huge ball of pasta on the end of my fork there was no way I could get it in my mouth. I started untwirling. “Why not?” my mom asked. My father took a bite of salad and looked at me thoughtfully while he chewed. “A, I didn’t know if she was really going to steal something or if she was just bragging to impress her friends. B, I had no evidence and I would have had to cut class to get proof. C, it’s the first month of middle school and I don’t want to be known as the school snitch.” There. That ought to do it. My mom stared at me until I squirmed. “Those are not legitimate reasons, Skylar, and you know it. If one of your classmates is admitting to shoplifting and encouraging others to join her, it is your duty to report her.” “Samantha,” my dad looked at my mom with a concerned expression on his face. “Let’s not force Skylar to be a tattletale when she’s not even sure whether this girl stole anything or not.” I stopped eating. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry anymore. I knew what was coming. “She tried to get another student to cut class. We know that for a fact.” My mom set her fork down carefully and looked at my dad. “Tattling is a non-issue.” Whatever that meant. “Haven’t we always taught Skylar not to compromise her ethics, no matter what anyone thinks?” “Yes we have. And we’ve also taught her not to leap to conclusions, jump the gun, or snitch on her friends, especially if there’s some doubt as to what they’ve really done,” he answered calmly. “Emelyn’s not my friend,” I mumbled. My mom’s lips disappeared and her eyebrows tightened. She hated it when my dad argued with her, especially in front of other people. Alexa kicked me under the table. “Are you almost done?” I knew she felt uncomfortable listening to my parents fighting. Sometimes they acted like I wasn’t even there. “Yeah. Can we please be excused?” “Sure. But clear your plates first,” my dad said. My mom just sat there looking at him while we scraped our chairs back and picked up our dishes. “I’ll drive Alexa home now.”

“It’s too dark out to search the yard anyway,” Alexa said as we ran up to my room to get her stuff. “You’ll have to follow the map without me.” She grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. Then she looked at me and her face softened. “You can do it, Skylar.” An hour later I was propped up in bed trying to write my essay. My parents’ bedroom was right below mine and I could hear them arguing. My mom told my dad she wished he wouldn’t disagree with her in front of me. He made a comment I couldn’t hear. I turned down the volume on my iPod and took the Soundtrap out of my detective kit. After putting in the earbuds, I held the microphone an eighth of an inch from the floor. Their voices sounded fuzzy, but I could still make out what they were saying. “Kids that age are going to cut class, lie, cheat, and steal things whether Skylar tattles on them or not,” my dad said calmly. “You’re asking her to butt her nose in where it doesn’t belong. As long as Skylar’s not doing it, don’t make her be the bad guy at school. She’ll end up making enemies and the other kids will continue to do what they want anyway.” I held my breath waiting for my mom’s reply. Would she push my dad and force me to tell on Emelyn? That’s all I needed. I could see the caption under my picture in the yearbook: “Skylar Robbins: Ugly-Sweater-Wearing Pacific School Snitch.” “I guess you’re right,” she finally answered. Then they started talking so quietly I couldn’t hear them anymore. Turning off my Soundtrap, I stood up and took a deep breath, relieved that their fight seemed to be over. Wondering why my mom and dad didn’t seem to argue unless it involved me, I finished my essay feeling small and guilty. Then I hid under my covers and called Alexa. She didn’t answer her cell so I texted her: My parents just got in another fight about me. It sucks. But my dad talked my mom out of forcing me to snitch. So that’s good, I guess. I’m sick of worrying about stupid Emelyn Peters. I’ll search the yard before school and see where the map leads. Thanks for figuring out where it starts. I didn’t know how I’d be able to sleep. The treasure map hidden inside my bedside stand was pecking at my brain. The second my alarm went off I rolled out of bed, tossed my nightgown on the floor, and scrambled into sweats and my pink sneakers. Grabbing my Porta- detective kit, I crept downstairs. Relieved to find the kitchen and dining room empty, I sneaked into the backyard undetected. It didn’t look anything like the map, so I tried to imagine the view from my office. “That tree there is this circle,” I mumbled, “and the hexagon on the map must be the gazebo, so I have to go over there to start.” Even though the footsteps on

the map seemed to lead toward the greenhouse, I figured I better follow them in order in case there were extra clues hidden along the way. I walked toward the side of the house opposite the canyon and backed up against the wall where the footsteps looked like they began. Taking four steps, I curved to my left and took another three, then veered right for six. I hit the first tree marked on the map. I hunted around the base of the trunk and looked up carefully at every branch. No clues. I crossed behind the tree and went left five paces, then turned left for three and walked to the right four steps. The gazebo was right in front of me. The hexagon. I’d already searched the gazebo and found the partial map. Besides that it was clean. From the gazebo, I took three steps to my right, then walked forward six paces. I stopped at the doorway to the greenhouse, opened it, and stepped inside. An array of empty clay pots and open cupboards faced me. Spider webs decorated with dead bugs hung in the corners. The greenhouse smelled like earthy soil and fertilizer. The sun rose over the ridge of the canyon, and shafts of light filtered through the tinted windows. A moth fluttered through the air and disappeared into a corner. My heart pounded in my chest. This felt right. Was I about to find Xandra’s jewelry box? After checking the map, I walked sideways three steps, but all I saw were stains on the floor and new plants on the counter next to me. I started picking up pots one at a time and peeking underneath them, hoping to see a big X, but I didn’t find anything except stray bits of soil. I looked around in frustration. The greenhouse was really pretty empty. Look for clues on the floor, all four walls, and the ceiling. Getting down on my hands and knees, I took the mini-mag glass out of my Porta-detective kit and looked through it, searching the floor inch by inch. There was nothing on it but dirt. I looked at the map again. Three steps from the greenhouse door led to the X. A chunk of the map on the other side of the greenhouse was torn off. Had Smack found the missing piece? I looked up at the ceiling, but just saw spider webs and mold. The cupboard next to me was empty and the drawer below it was gone. A gaping hole remained in its place. Kneeling on the ground, I bent over and peered through my magnifying glass. I examined one wooden strip of the floor at a time, looking for clues. When I got right up next to the cupboard, I brushed away the dirt that had collected near the edge. As I stared at it through my mag glass, my breath caught in my throat. There was a tiny, faded x on one of the planks. My heart started to pound. But what did the x mean? “Keep searching,” I answered myself. “The empty cupboard in my office had a clue inside it,” I

reasoned, wishing I had my black light with me, “maybe there’s a clue in this one.” I stuck my head into the cupboard and looked all around, shining my penlight into the corners. Except for spider webs it was totally empty. Was there a secret message on the wall, written in invisible ink? I didn’t dare go inside to get my ultraviolet light. My mom could figure out what I was up to. And besides, there wasn’t time. I stared at the faded x. It was written in black felt pen and matched the x on the back of Xandra’s picture: one line was squiggly and the other one was straight. I bet she drew the x on the back of her picture so I would know I was headed in the right direction when I found this one. The morning sun started to heat up the greenhouse. The fertilizer stench was getting smellier. I ran my fingers around the edges of the old wooden plank and pressed on the corners. One of them wiggled! Xandra’s old gardening tools were still hanging from hooks on the wall, and I grabbed a rusty weed digger. Planks in the floor had gaps in between them for drainage. I stuck the tool between two planks and pried up the one with the x on it. There was a shadowy foot of space between the wood floor and the dirt below it. From far away, at the bottom of the hill, I heard an engine rumble. Bending down close to the opening, I shined my light into the cavity. There was nothing right below the missing plank, but when I aimed the penlight at the side opposite the cupboard, something metallic winked back at me. The sound of the engine grew a little louder. Flattening my body onto the greenhouse floor, I reached my arm in as far as it would go. My fingertips touched something. Wiggling closer to the cupboard and stretching a little more, I felt something square and hard. I squeezed my body as close to the cupboard as possible, thrust my arm in until it felt like it was about to break off, and wrapped my fingers around the object hiding in the shadows. I pulled out a rusty metal box. Had I just found Xandra Collins’s jewels? I pressed the plank back into place, stood up and whirled around, ready to run up to my office to find out what the box contained. And I came face to face with my mom and dad. “What’s that, Skylar?” my dad asked. My mouth went dry and my hands started to sweat. “Just a rusty metal box.” “We can see that,” my mom said, reaching her hand forward. “What’s in it?” “I don’t know. I was just about to go to up to my room and open it.” I shifted my weight onto my other foot as she looked at me, waiting to see what I might be hiding as the engine noise became unmistakable. “Why don’t you open it right here?” my mom suggested, putting one hand on

her hip. Smack’s truck roared to a stop in front of our house and I heard doors open and slam. “Uh, OK,” I agreed. Like I had a choice. Balancing the box in one hand, I used the other one to pry open the lid. It came open with a squeak, and we all looked inside. Inside the box there was a dead leaf with curvy edges, a metal buckle like you’d see on an airplane seatbelt, a dried flower, coiled twine, a packet of nasturtium seeds, and a broken measuring tape. “See, Mom, that’s it.” I held the open box for my parents to see, desperate to escape with it before Crew Gang clomped into the yard and caught me in the greenhouse holding Xandra’s box of clues. “Just some old junk,” my dad said, squeezing my mom’s shoulder. “Nothing to worry about.” “Breakfast is ready,” she said, turning around and heading for the door. I hurried after her, giddy with relief. She looked at me over her shoulder. “Don’t you want to leave that dirty box here?” “Uh,” I stammered, “no—I’ll clean it up. I want to plant the nasturtium seeds,” I said, tucking the box under my arm. They had no idea that this was the next batch of clues that would lead to the hidden jewels. And that Smack and Ignado were desperate to find them before I did. I followed my parents out of the greenhouse right as Smack’s crew walked through the gate into the side yard. Trying to hide Xandra’s box under my hoodie, I looked up as they walked toward us. Ignado glared at me. Smack smirked like he had a big secret. The rest of the men gave me hard looks. Ignoring them, I skipped toward the house like the only thing on my mind was the strawberry Pop Tart I was about to eat for breakfast. I had to figure out what these clues meant. Fast.

24 UN-invite I was so anxious to work on the clues in the old metal box that I didn’t know how I’d be able to make it through school. But as soon as I walked into English, I knew I had a big problem, and promptly forgot about the mystery. Emelyn Peters was leaning against my desk, waiting for me. Sharon Greenburg and Pat Whitehead stood next to Emelyn with their arms folded across their chests. Pat was one of the tallest girls in school, and definitely the meanest next to Emelyn. All three of them had nasty looks on their faces and they stared at me as I walked down the aisle. What a day for Alexa to be late. “Excuse me, Emelyn, but that’s my desk.” I shifted my notebook onto my other arm. She didn’t move. “So I’ve got something of yours, and you have something I want.” She stared at me and her bloodshot blue eyes didn’t blink. “What?” I hoped they couldn’t see how terrified I was. “You know what I mean,” she spat. “You were hiding in the bathroom stall yesterday. I saw you go in ahead of me, so don’t try to deny it.” She stood up and took a step toward me. “You heard me say I was going to ask Dustin Coles to go to the backwards dance and then you hurried up and asked him first.” Emelyn was more muscular than I was and Pat Whitehead looked like a giant. Was I about to get into my first fistfight? “I’d already asked—” “LIAR!” Emelyn shouted, knocking the notebook out of my arms. It landed on the floor with a splat, and all of the handouts from my classes spilled across the aisle. Sharon looked at me gleefully and kicked some of the papers farther away. Everyone stopped talking and turned to stare at us. The black and white clock made a jarring click in the silent classroom. There were four minutes left until the bell rang. The teacher was nowhere in sight. “I had already asked him. Ask Dustin if you don’t believe me.” I bent down and picked up my notebook. My friend Jamal Jackson scooped up the messy pile of handouts that Sharon had kicked under his desk, straightened the papers out, and handed me the stack. He gave Sharon and Pat a hard look as I stuffed the pages into my notebook pocket. Emelyn lowered her voice to a threatening whisper. “Well I’m going to go to the dance with him, so if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to UN- invite him. Today.” She spun around and headed for her seat, just as Dustin and

Brendan walked in. Emelyn didn’t see them since her back was turned. My cheeks were burning. I took a deep breath. “Or else what?” I asked politely. I pictured my grandfather folding his arms across his chest and nodding his head. He always encouraged me to stick up for myself and never back down from bullies. Do what you know is right. I especially loved one of his favorite sayings. It sounded like something soldiers would chant while they marched: Don’t take any guff from the riffraff. I wished I had a whole army behind me while I waited for Emelyn’s answer. She didn’t turn around. “Or you’re going to get your butt kicked when you least expect it, that’s what,” she spat, spinning into her chair. My face felt like it was on fire. The whole class was silent, watching. Dustin looked at her with a weird expression on his face, halfway between amused and disgusted. “Why don’t you ask him who he wants to go with, since he just walked in and saw you make a fool of yourself,” I said under my breath, and the girl who sat next to me nodded. Emelyn had just become an even more dangerous enemy. Mrs. Mintin walked into the room and everyone got quiet. I felt sick all through English, wondering what would happen to me after class. When the bell rang, Emelyn waited in the doorway until I got to it and then elbowed me roughly when I walked through. She grabbed my arm and got right in my face. “UN-invite,” she warned me. I smelled cigarettes on her bad breath. She stalked off toward her locker and I went the other way. You’re going to get your butt kicked. When you least expect it. Well, I expected it any second, so I figured Emelyn would give me a couple of days to un-invite Dustin before she and Pat beat me up. So I had to act fast. Like right now. At the ten o’clock break, I told Alexa about the un-vitation while we hurried through the halls toward the cafeteria. “That’s pretty scary, Sky,” she said, feeding coins into the vending machine. “Split?” “Sure,” I said, as a Snickers bar clunked into the tray at the bottom. “It is scary.” Alexa ripped off the wrapper, bent the bar in two, and handed me half. “What are you going to do?” “I have the beginning of a plan.” I took the sticky piece but didn’t take a bite. Suddenly I wasn’t very hungry. Alexa looked worried. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” I was worried. “So do I.” Dustin ignored me when I got to Science, so I didn’t even look at him or try to start a conversation. Mr. Bidden passed out quizzes and turned on an overhead projector. We were studying botany and had to identify as many plants as we

could by the color and shape of their flowers and leaves. I stared at each slide, scribbling down my answers and waiting for class to end. Then I suffered through history, and finally the last bell rang and school was over. Time to put my plan into action. I ran down the hall toward Emelyn’s locker and hid around the corner while I waited for her to show up. She finally marched down the hall with Pat Whitehead at her side, and they walked toward the cafeteria, laughing loudly. The way their heads were bent together told me they were plotting something. That figured. I caught up to a crowd of kids several yards back and tried to hide myself behind the tallest guys. I spotted Alexa and put my finger against my lips as she hurried over. We took off, tailing Emelyn and Pat. “What’s up?” Alexa asked, trotting so she could keep up with me. “I’ve seen Emelyn stealing snacks from the vending machine almost every day after sixth period. Let’s go!” I walked even faster, weaving in and out of slow groups of guys and giggling girls so we wouldn’t lose them. “I’m sick of Emelyn bullying me, and it’s time for me to stick up for myself.” Alexa looked at me sideways. “And what are you going to do, tell on her for ripping off a Butterfinger?” “Not exactly. But it wouldn’t hurt to have a picture of her doing it. Or better yet, a video.” “Caught in the act?” Alexa’s freckled cheeks bunched up in a smile. “Exactly.” I pulled out my iPhone and touched the camera icon. “There she goes,” Alexa whispered, “Hurry!” We sped down the hall after Emelyn, heading for the cafeteria. Moments later her arm was way up inside the vending machine, grasping at a hanging sack of Cheetos. I aimed my phone and listened in satisfaction to the electronic kissing sound it made as it photographed Emelyn reaching for the bag. A loser named Bart who spent most of his afternoons in detention walked up and joined them. Emelyn said something I couldn’t hear, then Pat took one side of the machine and Bart took the other and they started rocking it back and forth. It made so much noise I was amazed that none of the hall monitors or teachers’ assistants came out to see what was going on. I switched my iPhone to video mode, recording them while the vending machine quaked. Bags fell off the hooks and into the bin at the bottom and Emelyn shouted, “Yeah!” She’d hit the snack jackpot. After taking a quick look over her shoulder to see if anyone was coming, she scooped up packs of potato chips, Fritos, Cheetos, and sunflower seeds with a big grin on her face, then crammed the stolen snacks into her backpack. I knew she’d try to sell the ones she didn’t eat. “Yes,” I whispered, looking at my phone and wondering what to do with the

evidence. Then a new message chirped and I felt my face heat up. “Oh no,” I said, staring at the screen. Suddenly Emelyn’s stolen potato chips didn’t matter at all. “What’s wrong?” Alexa asked. “Look.” I showed her the text and her face went pale. watch out snoop, don't be a rat “Who wrote that?” Alexa whispered. “The sender’s blocked.” I swallowed, looking at the threatening text. “But it has to be Crew Gang.” We just stared at each other as I stuffed my phone back into my purse. “How’d they even get your number?” Alexa’s nose wrinkled. “I told you, they’re all over all of our stuff. My dad probably left his cell sitting around and they copied my number from his contacts.” “Pretty sneaky.” I smiled. “Not sneaky enough. I caught them.” She nodded. “Have you told your mom?” “Of course not. You think I could admit that they’re threatening me? She would force me to stop looking for Xandra’s jewels, and you know there is no way—” “Skylar.” Alexa cut me off, raising one eyebrow. “Did you ever think that maybe your parents might be right once in a while? Maybe they know when you’re getting in too deep and something bad could happen to you?” She looked at me like I was being stupid and careless. Like my mom warning me to be careful was a good idea when there was no way I was giving up on solving a case. It seemed like they were both shouting at me: “Don’t take unnecessary chances!” It made me mad, and I glared at my best friend for a second. Then I forced myself to calm down. “Thank you for caring about me. But nothing bad is going to happen. I’m smarter than they are, for one. And I’m way ahead of them. Those guys are a joke. The best they could come up with was putting a dead rat in my drawer? Really?” Alexa took a deep breath and her cheeks turned pink. I knew she didn’t want to spit out the words she was about to say. “You need to be more careful, Skylar.” I stared at my best friend, willing her to understand. “Pat Whitehead comes up with worse threats than those jokers. So please stop worrying, OK?” Alexa just looked at me and shook her head.

If I were as smart as I thought I was, I would have listened to her.

25 The Thief in the Mirror The next morning Alexa beat me to first period. I knew she had something to tell me as soon as I saw her pink cheeks, and I hurried into my seat. Alexa came up to my desk with an excited look on her face. She leaned over and whispered, “I just asked Brendan to the dance. He said yes!” I smiled. “I knew he would. And he’s friends with Dustin so hopefully they’ll go together.” My heart thudded as I pictured us double dating with the two cutest guys in school. “Hopefully neither of them will cancel,” Alexa said, crossing her fingers. “I know, right?” I hadn’t even thought of that. What if we got stood up on our first date, and had to walk into the backwards dance together like two losers? “How about Emelyn and Pat robbing the vending machine? Did you show the video to anyone?” “No. I can’t decide what to do.” I shoved my backpack under my chair, worrying about the evidence I had on my phone. “Why don’t you tell Dustin the truth, that Emelyn is threatening you if you don’t un-invite him. Ask him what he thinks you should do. He’s smart, and it does involve him.” “OK. Good idea.” Emelyn walked in and we stopped talking. The bell rang and Alexa squeezed my arm before hurrying into her seat. “Take out your textbooks, read chapter four, and answer the questions at the end,” Mrs. Mintin told us. She hobbled over to her desk and began grading papers. I opened my book and glanced at Alexa. She took the squishy ball out of her purse and squeezed it with her left hand. “Where’s the blue sheet?” I whispered. Alexa shot me a look. “I’m not bringing it to school,” she hissed. “They make enough fun of me as it is. I’m not calling more attention to myself.” “OK. Think vanilla-lavender.” She gave me a little nod. Her knees bounced up and down and her lips moved while she followed her finger across the page, trying to get through the chapter fast enough to answer the questions before class ended. I finished the quiz quickly and had time to kill. Taking the compact out of my purse, I cupped the little circle of mirror in my palm, aimed it behind me and zeroed in on Emelyn. That cheater was copying the answers right off Sharon Greenburg’s paper! Sharon’s head was bent over her book and she didn’t even

notice. I continued to spy and couldn’t believe what I saw next. Emelyn looked sideways. When Sharon was distracted fishing through her purse, Emelyn swiped her favorite pen right off her desk. It was one of those expensive ones that came in a silver case. Last year Sharon made a big deal out of offering to let her friends use it when we were signing yearbooks. “Want to use my Cross pen?” she’d say, smiling proudly. Emelyn’s purse sat open on the floor, and she dropped Sharon’s silver pen right into it without even looking up from her quiz. I scribbled a note, made sure Mrs. Mintin wasn’t looking, and tossed it to Alexa: Emelyn just stole Sharon’s Cross pen right off her desk! Alexa read the note slowly and then looked at me with her eyes wide and her mouth open. She started to look over her shoulder, but I shook my head and put my finger on my lips. “Wait,” I mouthed. She nodded, scribbling a note back to me: And Elemyns suposed to be Sharens freinb! “Now!” I whispered to Alexa, jerking my head toward the back row. She turned around slowly pretending to crack her back, and peeked at Sharon and Emelyn. Looking into my mirror, I saw Emelyn sitting there with a smug grin on her face. Sharon looked like she was ready to cry. Here’s my chance to bust apart their little trio. Class ended and Sharon stayed in her seat, rummaging through her purse and searching the area below her desk. I knew what she was looking for, and exactly where it was. Pat and Emelyn gave me dirty looks as they walked out, and they mouthed, “UN-invite,” at me. By the time science class started I had changed my mind ten times about what I was going to say to Dustin. No way was I going to un-invite him to the dance. Should I tell him Emelyn stole Sharon’s pen? And that she told me I’d better un-invite him to the backwards dance, or else? Or would he think I made up a story about Emelyn stealing because she was threatening me? The dance was a week from Friday so I had to do something fast. Dustin walked into class and I made a quick decision. I caught his eye and motioned for him to sit next to me. “What’s up?” he asked, settling into his chair. “Um, you’ve been on Student Council before, right?” He nodded “Uh-huh.” “So can I ask your advice about something?” “Sure.” His big hazel eyes looked into mine and I almost forgot what I’d planned to say. “OK, if you knew one of our classmates was stealing things, like out of other people’s lockers, what would you do?”

“Boy or girl?” “Huh?” “The thief. Is it a boy or a girl?” Oh-oh. It sure didn’t take him long to figure out I was talking about a specific person. “Why does it matter?” Dustin thought about it and grunted. “Huh. I guess it doesn’t. So who’s stealing?” “I just wanted your opinion. You know, about snitching in general.” Dustin looked at me like he knew I was lying. Great, I thought, I’m asking for his advice about stealing and snitching and I’m lying while I’m doing it. “Emelyn Peters,” I blurted. “I saw her steal an expensive pen off someone’s desk in English. I just wondered if I should say something.” My heart raced while I watched his face, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Would he suspect this had something to do with the backwards dance? I knew Dustin had turned Emelyn down to go with me instead. Did he know I knew that Emelyn had asked him too? It was getting so confusing I felt like my head was about to explode. “Whose pen?” Dustin asked. Just like my mom, he had to have the details. “Sharon Greenburg’s.” “Why don’t you just tell Sharon that Emelyn took her pen?” Dustin stared at me like, how obvious was that? He ran his fingers through his glossy hair and looked away. Duh. Why hadn’t I thought of it without asking him? And besides, did Sharon even deserve my help? I remembered the satisfied look on her face when she kicked my papers across the aisle. Dustin tapped his pencil on his desk like the whole issue was uninteresting. “Good idea. Thanks,” I said, opening my science book and dropping the subject like I was bored with it too. If he found out Emelyn was threatening to beat me up if I didn’t un-invite him to the dance, he’d know I had a motive for ratting her out. Thanks to him, now it would be up to Sharon. After class I walked down the hall by the cafeteria. I knew exactly where Sharon’s locker was. She’d pasted stickers from a boy band all over it, then had gotten in trouble and was told to remove them. She tried, but strips of cute guys’ heads still stuck to the door. I stood in front of her locker and waited. Moments later Sharon plodded down the hall, staring at her feet. I stepped into her path. “Sharon,” I whispered. She looked at me and backed up a smidge, like she was surprised that someone was actually talking to her. Curling my finger, I motioned for her to follow me around the corner like I had something Top Secret to tell her. Which I did. We hurried to the end of the hall

and walked behind the wall, hiding in the teachers’ parking lot. “I know who has your Cross pen.” Her mouth dropped open. “Who?” “She’s pretending to be your friend. You have to promise you won’t say who told you.” Sharon nodded. “OK.” She stared into my eyes, waiting to find out who had betrayed her. Afraid and angry at the same time. “Who stole it?” “You need to tell a T.A. or a teacher. Don’t just confront her or she’ll deny it. Her purse needs to be searched. Today. By an adult. Understand?” I looked around. If one of them came out to the parking lot and caught us standing there we’d need an excuse, fast. Sharon nodded. “Exactly. Who took it?” “Emelyn Peters,” I said quickly. “She stole it right off your desk in English.” Sharon’s face fell as she realized the coolest girl in school wasn’t so cool after all, and wasn’t her friend either. Her eyebrows scrunched like what she decided to do would be life-changing. One of the biggest, most important choices she would ever make. Then she looked up at me and nodded, ever so slightly. Like a decision had been made. “Come on. We have to get to class,” I said, and we hurried back into the hall. Three cheerleaders marched toward us giggling loudly, then hushing their voices to a whisper when they passed as if their conversation was way too juicy to let us overhear. Sharon watched them walk away, knowing they were in a club she would never be allowed to join. “I’m sorry I was mean to you in class,” she said, staring at the ground. “Emelyn said you were trying to take Dustin away from her. And some other stuff about you that—probably isn’t true.” This made my stomach twitch. Sharon looked up at me through her glasses. “Nobody popular ever paid attention to me before.” “It’s OK, Sharon,” I said, forgiving her. “I get it.” “Yeah, right.” The look on her face told me I would never understand how she felt, and that she knew I really didn’t get it at all. Didn’t understand the loneliness she felt, because I had a BFF and other friends. Lots of Facebook likes popped up any time I posted anything, and I was in plenty of popular kids’ Instagram pics. I didn’t get the attention of every boy in our grade, but I got enough. “OK,” Sharon said, staring at her feet, then up at me. “So what should I do?” I looked around to make sure none of Emelyn’s friends were near enough to hear us. “You should tell somebody now, while she still has your pen on her. Otherwise it will be impossible to prove she stole it.” I raked my hair behind my

ear, hoping she would listen to me and take my advice. Hoping she wouldn’t turn on me, run to Emelyn, and rat me out for snitching. “You’re right,” Sharon said. She stomped down the hall, heading for Principal Martinez’s office with a determination in her step that I’d never seen before. My stomach sank as I thought about what I’d started. I didn’t know it then, but my own nightmare was about to begin.

26 Punishment After school I had gymnastics practice and stretched, kicked, jumped, and tumbled until my muscles were aching and sweat was trickling down my sides. When I got home I was so slammed with homework that I didn’t have time to worry about Emelyn Peters, UN-inviting Dustin, or Sharon Greenburg’s stolen pen. I couldn’t work on the clues in the rusty metal box with Smack’s crew roaming all over our house, so I hid the box above the false ceiling in my office cupboard where I was pretty sure they wouldn’t find it. Taking a break from doing my homework, I decided to go downstairs to watch TV. I headed down the first few stairs, and flinched when I saw Ignado coming up toward me with a mean look on his face. Seven steps separated us. I wasn’t about to back off. So I climbed down two more steps. Ignado stomped up three more stairs. We stopped face to face and his brown eye glared at me. Ignado shook his head like he was giving me a warning. I moved to my right, and he waited a second before leaning sideways to let me pass. I skipped down the stairs with my heart beating hard, smelling the harsh stench of B.O. he had left behind. Moments later I was in the den. I turned on the TV and flicked through the channels, but I didn’t even notice what was on. Cartoons. A stupid show that was supposed to be funny. What was Crew Gang up to? Infomercial. They have a clue that I don’t have. Click, click, click. Sports. News. Danger. Think. I pushed a button on the clicker, back to the news. “Tonight, clues left behind by an East L.A. gang led to their arrest in the recent desecration of several graves at the Forest Lawn cemetery.” Clues left behind. Something I missed. The guilty smirk on Ignado’s face. Trigger. Tearing up the spiral stairs to my office, I dragged the stepstool over to the cupboard. I reached up and removed the panel that hid the false ceiling, and then felt around with my hand. The rusty metal box was still there. Smack and his crew hadn’t found it. I climbed off the stepstool and ran down the spiral staircase into my bedroom. Peeking under my bed, I dragged out my detective kit. It was closed and locked, the digits still in the order I always leave them: 6-2-9. Crew Gang hadn’t tampered with it. But something was up. I sensed it.

I read a boring history chapter and studied for my science test. I kept my door open a crack so I could hear if anyone was coming. My parents insisted I keep an A average and I hadn’t disappointed them yet, but elementary school had been easy. Middle school was a different story. Challenging in more ways than one, I thought, picturing Emelyn and her friends threatening me. Not to mention what was going on inside my very own house. Dinner’s ready, my mom texted me just as I finished studying science, and I walked downstairs. “Hi Skylar,” my dad said, squeezing my shoulder. “How was school today?” We sat down at the table and my mom served up chicken, vegetables, and rice. I pushed peas around on my plate, knowing I’d have trouble swallowing if I put a pile of them into my mouth. “OK,” I lied. Then I set down my fork and my eyes filled with tears. I swiped them away with the back of my hand, hoping no one had noticed. They had. My mom looked at me and forgot all about the food. “Honey, what’s wrong?” She rested her hand on top of mine. My dad’s jaw muscles bulged as he chewed a bite of chicken, watching my face while he waited for me to answer. Gritting my teeth and forcing the tears away, I decided not to keep what was happening in school a secret any longer. The words tumbled out of my mouth so fast that they barely made sense. “Yesterday Emelyn Peters and her friends threatened to beat me up unless I un-invite Dustin to the dance, since she wants him to go with her. She said if I don’t un-invite him I’ll get my butt kicked when I least expect it.” “They threatened you?” my dad asked, looking at my mom and then at the phone like he was ready to stand up and do something about it. And they’re not the only ones, I thought, thinking about Crew Gang. “Then they gave me dirty looks all day, so I followed Emelyn after class—” “You did?” My mom raised her eyebrows. Following someone to stand up for myself in a confrontation was so not me that she couldn’t believe it. When I remembered the evidence I’d gathered, I smiled. “—and I took a picture of her with her hand way up inside the vending machine.” My dad looked up from cutting into his chicken. “Stealing?” “Uh-huh. I got her on my cell taking a whole bunch of snacks without paying.” “Good girl,” my mom said. “Did you turn her in?” “Not exactly.” My dad waited calmly for me to continue but my mom frowned. “Why not?” she asked. “Because I saw her steal an expensive pen this morning, and then I did tell

someone. Dustin Coles was on Student Council so I told him. He suggested I tell Sharon Greenburg, who Emelyn stole the pen from, and let her handle it.” My dad looked at me. “Good advice,” he said, scooping up a forkful of peas. I knew he was debating something he wasn’t saying. Like I could have done more. Should have taken charge. I wasn’t exactly feeling good about my detective skills. “I think you should have handled it yourself to make sure someone in authority found out,” my mom said. She had completely stopped eating. “They will, Mom. Sharon went straight to the principal’s office after I told her who stole her Cross pen.” I twisted the corner of my napkin into a tight spiral. “Good for her,” my mom said pointedly, like it should have been me marching down the hall and tattling instead. “It’s not like I just chickened out and haven’t done anything,” I said, sticking up for myself, “just because I didn’t squeal on Emelyn myself.” I took a small bite of rice. “So Skylar,” my father said, staring at me with a little smile on his face, “what else is there that you’d like to discuss with us?” He drummed his fingers on the table. My dad always saw right through me. I couldn’t lie to him. I set down my fork and took a deep breath. “I’ve been figuring out Xandra Collins’s clues.” My mom and dad looked at me expectantly. It was time to come clean. So I spilled it. By the time we were finished with our meal my parents were totally amazed with me. And unbelievably, they weren’t mad. Yet. I ran up the stairs ahead of them, eager to show them my detective notes and the box of clues. They had seen me tiptoeing around the backyard with the map in my hands, so they knew I was up to something. It felt so good not to have to sneak around behind their backs anymore that I could hardly stand it. The only thing I left out was the part about the construction workers threatening me. There was no way I could let my mom know I was searching for the jewels and getting terrorized by a bunch of bikers in the process. I’d be grounded for the rest of my life for taking risks again. No backwards dance, no jewels, no Dustin. No fun again, ever. Forget it. Besides, these jokers were so far behind me it wasn’t even funny. I could post a YouTube video on how to locate clues and Smack couldn’t find one if it was hidden in his underwear. They weren’t scaring me off with their stupid threats. My mom and dad would definitely forbid me to continue my search if

they knew I was putting myself in danger. But I knew I would find the jewels before Crew Gang did. They followed me up the spiral stairs and we crowded into my little office. I told them how the fingerprints in the dusty windowsill had led me to the cupboard. Then I shined my black light on the secret message so they could read it: Congratulations. You found the first clue. Here is the second clue: Things in this room are not always what they seem. “After searching my office from top to bottom, I finally found an envelope hidden above a fake ceiling in the cupboard.” I unlocked my clue box and showed them the symbol on the yellowed paper: “I really had a hard time figuring out what the squares meant,” I said. Then I stopped short, taking a deep breath. “OK. Now I have to admit something.” My dad folded his arms and my mom looked at me very seriously. “Yes, Skylar?” she asked. Suddenly my tiny office was too small for the three of us. I needed some air but my mom was blocking the spiral staircase and I knew she wouldn’t budge until I spit it out. “I knew the square design was the next clue to finding Xandra’s hidden jewelry box, and I had already searched the whole house and the yard, so I knew it must be on a hidden floor. Remember Ms. Knight telling us there were either three or—” My mom cut me off. “Yes,” she said slowly. My dad waited with one eyebrow raised. I took a deep breath. “Well, the clue says you plus up plus four, so I rode the dumbwaiter to get to the fourth floor.” “You did?” My dad shook his head and chuckled. My mom glared at him, furious that he thought it was funny. Then she turned to me. “SKYLAR!” She shouted my name so hard that spit flew out of her mouth. “Do you realize how dangerous that was?” Uh, yeah Mom, I did.

“It said the weight limit was 150 pounds, which is a lot more than me, so I figured it was safe.” Looking down, I pretended to brush some dirt off one sneaker with my other foot, hoping this conversation would just go away. My dad looked at me seriously. “Do you remember how old this house is?” “One hundred years old,” I recited. “Correct,” my mom snapped. “You risked your life riding in a metal box supported only by hundred-year-old cables.” “Nothing happened,” I said meekly. “And you didn’t think you were taking a risk?” My mom scowled at me. The metal wires holding the dumbwaiter up were old and might be rusty. They could snap in the middle of my ride, and I would plunge down three stories… We could have a power failure and I could get trapped inside the wall. I could starve to death or die of thirst. While I was starving to death, the rats— “I admit that I realized it was risky,” I said, looking at the floor. I wasn’t about to tell them I’d actually gotten stuck, and that if I hadn’t found the emergency button I might still be trapped inside the dumbwaiter, banging on the walls and screaming. “You got lucky. Next time you want to do something that you even suspect might be dangerous, you ask permission first, understand? You know better.” “I will, Mom. I’m sorry I didn’t ask first. I knew I probably shouldn’t ride the dumbwaiter, but I just had to find the hidden floor and the next clue. I promise I’ll ask permission next time.” I really did intend to. “You bet you will. I am going to let you decide what your punishment should be.” “Honey.” My dad touched my mom’s arm, trying to calm her down. “I would have wanted to find the ‘hidden floor’ too.” He made quotation marks in the air like he thought the hidden floor was just the attic, or maybe a storage area. I decided to let him believe just that, and keep the location of the secret floor to myself. My mom wasn’t going for it. She was mad. “And if you choose an easy punishment you will not be attending the backward dance.” She stood there with her hands on her hips, waiting for my answer. Oh no. I needed to think of something quick, and it had to be good. I don’t get an allowance. My parents made up a list of chores, and each one has a dollar amount next to it. For example, I got $3.00 for vacuuming our old house and $2.00 for dusting it, but when we moved into this big one I got a little raise. Still, I have to work hard on Saturdays to earn my spending money. Even

though we have a cleaning woman, I still have to do chores. My parents think this will teach me “the value of a dollar,” and “give me a good work ethic.” “How about two Saturdays doing chores without pay?” I suggested. This would totally stink, but anything was better than getting grounded with the dance coming up. “Two full Saturdays, ten in the morning to three in the afternoon,” my dad said. “And next time you do something dangerous….” my mom warned. I could tell by the look in her eyes that I’d better think harder before I did something stupid again or I’d be grounded for sure. “Well now that that’s settled,” my dad said, changing the subject, “what else did you find?” He loved hunting for treasures, just like me, and I think we were all relieved to get back to discussing the clues. “I couldn’t figure out what that weird drawing stood for, until I saw this pile of boxes. Inside one box was a picture of Xandra Collins.” I pulled it out and showed it to them. “She was beautiful,” my mother said. “Yeah she was. In the box below that there was a map with numbered footsteps on it. But some of the steps were missing. I found another part of the map lining the bird’s nest in the gazebo. I must have remembered seeing paper in the nest from when we first looked at the house because I dreamt about it.” I didn’t tell them that there was a chunk missing, and that Smack probably had it. Clues left behind. “You are quite the sleuth,” my father said, and I smiled. “What happened next?” “I put the map together and followed it to this hidden compartment in the greenhouse where I found the rusty metal box I showed you. The leaf, the buckle, the flower, the measuring tape, the seeds, and the twine are the next clues. I just have to figure out how they fit together. And remember what Ms. Knight said?” “Which thing that she said?” my mom asked. “That Xandra Collins had left a mysterious note saying whoever is smart enough and brave enough to follow the clues and figure out where she hid her jewels will inherit them? Well that smart, brave person is going to be me.” “Go for it,” my dad said, and a moment later my mom nodded.

27 Busted The next morning I walked into English feeling nervous, but confident. My parents’ faith in me had given me courage. I ignored Emelyn’s dirty look and sat down at my desk. Pat walked slowly down my row taking the long way to her seat, and when she passed me, she mouthed, “UN-invite,” with an ugly sneer on her face. I ignored her too. I should have paid attention to both of them. Alexa scribbled me a note: what hapenned with elemyn? I told Dustin that Emelyn took Sharon’s pen and he said I should tell Sharon, so I did. I told her to tell a T.A. or a teacher. I’m sick of thinking about it and of my parents fighting about what I should do. Im sick of elemyn caling me dislexa. I hope she gets what she desreves. Class passed, and nothing happened to Emelyn. But lunch was a different story. “I’m getting the chili,” Alexa said, grabbing a bowl and a green salad as we moved through the cafeteria line. “I’m having a sub. Tell me if I have anything stuck in my teeth when we’re done, OK? I don’t want to wear any salami to Science.” We headed toward an open table when all of a sudden Alexa stopped and grabbed my arm. “Look over there. Cops.” Two police officers walked across campus toward the principal’s office. “Did you ever send anybody the pictures or the video?” “No. Not yet.” I didn’t think stealing an armload of Cheetos would have brought the police to Pacific, but you never knew what else Emelyn Peters could have done. We sat down at the very end of the table so we had a good view of what was going on. Emelyn sat on the lawn surrounded by Pat, Trish, and a handful of guys. Emelyn glanced over at the cops and didn’t even flinch. Dustin was at a table near us, eating with his friends. The dark-haired boys at the far end of our table started speaking quietly in Spanish and pointing. One by one, heads turned as the word cops and policía spread across the lunch area. The police walked toward the principal’s office and through the door to its reception area. “Sharon must have told the principal Emelyn stole her pen,” I said. “I hope she didn’t say I was the one who told her.” I tore a bite off my sub and chewed it

like a dog gnawing on a sausage treat. Sometimes when I get nervous I feel like I’m starving. “Do you think they’re going to search Emelyn’s purse?” Alexa asked me. “Or her locker?” “Probably. Wait. Here they come.” The cops, the principal, and the vice principal came out of the offices and marched across the lawn toward us. I had the terrifying thought that they were going to walk right up to me and accuse me of taking sneaky videos while the whole school watched. But they stopped when they reached Emelyn and her friends. She stood up and started gesturing and shaking her head. “I wonder if she has stolen games in her purse,” I said. “Or if she still has all those bags of snacks. They’ll figure out she was the one who vandalized the vending machine.” “They broke it?” Alexa nodded. “It has an OUT OF ORDER sign on it now.” The cops walked back toward the principal’s office, and Emelyn, the principal, and the vice principal followed. “Is she getting arrested?” Alexa squeaked. “I don’t think so. Not yet anyway.” Sharon hurried down the hall and followed them inside. “Somebody’s busted,” a cute boy at Dustin’s table said loudly. “She’s in truh-bull,” Brendan sang. “Emelyn is finally getting what she deserves,” Alexa said. We looked at each other and nodded. My satisfaction didn’t last long. The next morning, Emelyn didn’t show up for English. Rumors were flying. Did Emelyn get arrested? Was she locked up in Juvenile Hall? Or did she just cut class again? Dustin came right up to me as soon as I walked into the room and asked me if I had heard what had happened. His blue flannel shirt looked so soft it distracted me. I looked away while I tried to figure out what to say. Then I looked back at him—right into his eyes. “I took your advice and told Sharon that Emelyn took her Cross pen, and I think she told the principal. Do you know why the cops were here?” Dustin shook his head. “Uh-uh. But I think Emelyn got suspended. She’s rude, anyway,” he said, surprising me. “She really talked some trash about you.” He took a step closer to me and I felt my face grow hot, wondering what she had told him. “Emelyn said you were going to un-invite me to the dance. That you changed your mind and didn’t want me to go with you. She said you wanted to go with Brendan instead.” He looked at me with those awesome hazel eyes and I felt my jaw drop open.

“Brendan Tadman? No way.” As if I would ever betray Alexa and ask him. “She’s lying. I was never going to un-invite you, even after she threatened to beat me up if I didn’t.” I looked Dustin right in the eye. I think he knew I was telling the truth. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “That’s what she was talking about when she said you were going to get your butt kicked? How weak. She must be jealous.” Dustin smiled at me, and then looked at the floor with an embarrassed expression on his face. Did Dustin Coles actually just admit that he liked me? I know he said yes to the dance, but this made it sound like he liked me liked me! He sat down, opened his book, and completely ignored me for the rest of the period. I whipped out my notepad and made a quick note on something yummy to think about later: Dustin thinks Emelyn has a reason to be jealous of me! My heart didn’t stop hammering for the rest of the day. By sixth period, the news was all over campus. When the police searched Emelyn’s purse they found Sharon Greenburg’s Cross pen, plus a bonus: two stolen video games with the price tags and barcode stickers still on them, and enough bags of snacks to link her to the broken vending machine. Emelyn got suspended, but only for two days since it was her first offense at Pacific. She was following in her brother’s footsteps. If she got in trouble again or was caught stealing she could get expelled. Best of all, she would not be allowed to participate in any after-school activities. Emelyn was barred from the backwards dance! And I had a big secret. Skylar Robbins was the squealer who spied on Emelyn, saw her steal the Cross pen, and told Sharon. I had started the whole snitching process. But I hadn’t officially told a teacher, just Dustin and Sharon. Did that count? Was I the official Pacific Middle School Snitch? Or just the snitcher’s accomplice? I didn’t want to be a tattletale, but I wasn’t about to turn my back on a crime either. My brain was beginning to hurt from thinking about it.

28 The Setup By Tuesday Emelyn Peters was back in school. English class started out normally. Mrs. Mintin got to her feet and held up the teacher’s edition of the English book. “Please read the poem on page seventy. Then I would like you to write two paragraphs describing the symbolism the author used and how you interpret it.” Alexa looked at me with a worried expression on her face. Expecting Alexa to write a good paragraph was like handing a blind person a paintbrush and waiting for a masterpiece. “Use your imagination,” I whispered. “Pretend the poem is a painting and just describe what you see.” Alexa smiled gratefully and nodded. A few minutes later we were all concentrating so hard on describing the imagery in the poem that I never noticed what was going on behind my back. Right before the bell rang, Mrs. Mintin collected our papers and gave us a homework assignment. Just as she finished explaining it, Jamal shouted, “Hey!” His eyes darted around the classroom. Mrs. Mintin flinched. “Yes, Jamal?” “My iPod’s missing,” he said angrily. “You definitely had it when you came to class?” The teacher looked at each of us like if she stared hard enough the juvenile delinquent who took it would just give it up and raise his hand. “Always keep it right here in this pocket,” Jamal said, patting his backpack. We all knew this was true, since he plugged in his earbuds and listened to rap and hip-hop between each class and on every break. “Had it when I got here. Now it’s gone.” Jamal gave everyone sitting near him a dark look. For a minute, no one spoke. Then Emelyn said quietly, “I know where it is.” She dropped her head into her hand, like ratting any of us out would absolutely destroy her. Half the class whirled around to hear the thief’s name. “Who took it?” Jamal demanded. “Where is the iPod?” Mrs. Mintin asked Emelyn. Emelyn looked down into her lap and hesitated. “I’m not a snitch,” she mumbled. Mrs. Mintin folded her arms across her bony chest. “No one is leaving this classroom until Jamal’s iPod is returned.” The girls sitting near me fidgeted nervously. Emelyn looked around with a

panicky expression on her face, like it was going to kill her to call out the thief. Grabbing her hair like an overacting starlet, she finally spat out the name. “OK, since you’re forcing me to tell—I saw Skylar Robbins steal Jamal’s iPod and put it in her backpack.” I felt like the air had been vacuumed out of my lungs. “No way,” Alexa said, her cheeks turning bright pink. The girl in front of her leaned away from me like I had something contagious. “Oh right, Emelyn,” I said. “Jamal’s my friend.” As if I would even steal anything from someone who wasn’t my friend. “Well, here’s an easy solution,” Mrs. Mintin said, hobbling down the aisle toward my seat. “May I see your backpack please?” She reached a crooked hand in my direction. “Of course,” I said, handing it over. Then I heard a snicker. Looked sideways. The smirk on Pat Whitehead’s face sent a chill down my spine. Her pale eyes disappeared into slits. A vision of what was about to happen shot into my brain like I was looking into a crystal ball. The bell rang, but nobody moved. Mrs. Mintin reached into my backpack. A strange look transformed her face. Her hand came out in slow motion and my mouth fell open in disbelief. “But I didn’t—” The teacher sighed and shook her head, holding up the iPod. “Jamal, is this yours?” “That’s mine all right.” Jamal looked at me like I’d just farted on his birthday cake. “Thanks, Skylar. I guess I just figured out who my real friends are.”

29 Porta-Detective Kit Mrs. Mintin handed Jamal his iPod and gave me a stern look. “The rest of you may go to your next class. Except Skylar.” She pointed a wrinkled finger at me. “You’re headed for the principal’s office.” My frozen brain finally kicked into gear. “Wait,” I begged. “Jamal. Please, you have to believe me. I didn’t steal your iPod.” He rolled his eyes like my lie was too dumb for words. “I can prove it. But you have to give it back to me.” “Oh right.” I watched in horror as he slid his iPod into his backpack pocket, possibly smearing the only evidence that could save me. His skinny legs propelled him out the door, leaving me alone with Mrs. Mintin while we waited for a T.A. to come walk me to the principal’s office. Five minutes later I was sitting on a couch in the reception area outside Principal Martinez’s office, so mad I was shaking. Someone had stolen Jamal’s iPod and planted it in my backpack. It didn’t take a detective to read the smug look on Pat Whitehead’s face and to figure out that Emelyn was behind it. She wanted to get me in trouble for more than one reason. If I got caught stealing she wouldn’t be the only thief at Pacific. I could get suspended too, and I wouldn’t be able to go to the dance with Dustin. I had to prove my innocence. But the evidence I needed was far out of my reach, and worse yet, it may have already been destroyed. Mr. Martinez finally opened the door and motioned me inside. I sat down in the chair in front of his desk, desperate to tell him my side of the story. The principal’s brown suit was a little bit wrinkled, and his thick black hair shot up from his head like it was trying to escape. He pressed stubby fingers together and stared at me with one eyebrow raised like he’d already decided I was guilty. Mr. Martinez sat quietly for so long that I started to squirm in my seat, trying to work up the courage to defend myself. His office was so stuffy it was hard to breathe. Finally I couldn’t stand the silence another second. “I didn’t—” “I think I need to call the police.” Mr. Martinez slowly reached for the telephone, keeping his eyes on my face. “Wait!” I pleaded. If I got arrested and ended up with a criminal record, I couldn’t become an undercover detective, could I? Was my career about to be ruined before it even began? To my dismay, tears flooded my eyes, making me look even guiltier. The principal continued to tap the telephone keypad and stare at me. A little smirk twitched the corners of his mouth. I gritted my teeth and

looked him right in the eye. “What’s so funny?” “Oh, this is just so typical.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched, like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Every student who is sent to my office swears they are innocent. And you can’t all be innocent, can you?” He leaned forward and his black eyes bored into mine. I stared right back at him. I didn’t care about all the other students who got sent to his office. “I am innocent.” “That’s what they all say.” “I didn’t steal that iPod. Just give me a chance to prove it.” “I’d love to see that proof, Skylar.” He smiled like he thought he’d just beat me in some game we were playing. “And I’ll show it to you. Please call Jamal Jackson to your office, Mr. Martinez. Right away. Please.” Amazingly, the principal paged Jamal and got him out of class. While we waited for him to walk to the office I took my Porta-detective kit out of my backpack. If my hunch was right, it was about to save my skin. Unless Jamal had already smeared the real thief’s prints beyond recognition. I opened my Porta-detective kit and took out my Uniprinter. This was a one- inch square stamp pad with black ink and a tiny tablet of paper attached to the back. Just big enough to take one fingerprint. I set the Uniprinter on the principal’s desk. “Mr. Martinez, I am now going to fingerprint myself with you as a witness.” I pressed my right index finger onto the stamp pad, then turned the Uniprinter over and rolled my inky fingertip across one of the small squares of paper. I tore it off and handed it to the principal. “See that? My fingerprint type is called a radial loop.” Mr. Martinez squinted at the postage stamp-sized piece of paper I handed him. “Want to look at it through my magnifying glass?” He shook his head, but held onto my print. “I’ll take your word for it.” Digging back into my Porta-detective kit, I pulled out a tiny packet of black fingerprinting powder and a little brush as Jamal walked through the door. “My fingerprints will not be on Jamal’s iPod, because I did not steal it,” I said confidently. “But I’m positive I know who did, and who set me up, and I’m

about to prove it. Jamal, please set your iPod on the desk, and really try not to smear any prints that might be on it. Please.” After giving me a quick nod, Jamal carefully took his iPod out of his backpack, grasping just the edges with his fingertips. He set it down on the principal’s desk and said, “Let’s do this.” I sprinkled black dusting powder onto the iPod’s shiny surface, spread it around with the brush, and whisked away the excess. The remaining black dust stuck to a whole gang of fingerprints. I looked at them through my Mini-mag glass. Most were a common spiral pattern called a whorl. But not all of them. There was a rare peacock’s eye print right on the top of the iPad, clear and crisp. “Jamal, let me see your fingertip.” Holding his finger in one hand, I looked at it through the mag glass and nodded to myself. “Mm-hm. Your prints are the basic whorl pattern. And I’ll bet Pat Whitehead’s have a peacock’s eye in the center. That’s very rare. I have radial loop fingerprints, and there are no radial loops on this iPod.” I lifted two well-defined peacock’s eyes onto white fingerprinting tape and pasted the tape onto a Case Solution card. Then I turned the iPod over and dusted the other side. After peering at it through the glass, I offered the iPod and Mini-mag to Jamal. “Want to take a look? There are no radial loops on this side either.” Jamal gave me a little smile and shook his head. I could tell he believed me. One down, one to go. I handed the Case Solution card to the principal. “If you will please call Pat Whitehead into your office and let me fingerprint her, I will prove she was the one who stole Jamal’s iPod and planted it in my backpack. I guarantee her prints are peacock’s eyes and will match the ones on that card.” Mr. Martinez raised his eyebrows and his cheeks reddened like he was watching an exciting TV show. Or like he was on Jeopardy and didn’t know the answer to an easy question. “If I pull her out of class and you’re bluffing, you’re in for a long spell of detention,” he said, glaring at me. “I’m not bluffing,” I assured him. “As soon I fingerprint her you’ll know I’m telling the truth.” The principal scribbled Whitehead on the card. Jamal glanced at the clock. “Can I go back to class?” “Don’t you want to follow through and determine how your iPod wound up in this young lady’s possession?” Jamal looked at me and shook his head. “Nah, Sky’s straight. She’s tellin’ the truth. Pat Whitehead and her crew have a hate on for Skylar for some reason. Besides, she wouldn’ta busted out all the fingerprint gear if she’d took it.” He winked at me. “Thanks, Jamal.”

“No worries,” he said, reaching for the door. “You can go too, Skylar,” Mr. Martinez told me. He blew some stray black powder off the edge of his desk. “I do plan to have a discussion with Pat Whitehead about this, and I will also note the incident in her file. But I don’t see the need to pull her out of class or do any more fingerprinting.” “That’s fine with me. Sorry about the mess.” “It’s all right.” The principal looked up at me as if he knew I’d won the game, and was OK with it. “It was interesting,” he admitted. I packed up my Porta-detective kit and stood there fidgeting for a minute. “Why don’t we just forget the whole thing?” If Pat and Emelyn knew I’d squealed on them to the principal they’d try to get revenge for sure. Dropping The Case of the Stolen iPod sounded like a really good idea. Mr. Martinez drummed his fingertips on his desk and stared at me. “All right, Skylar,” he finally said. “Since Jamal didn’t want to take this any further, I’m willing to let the matter drop. Go ahead and get to class. I sincerely hope I won’t see you in my office again. Keep your nose clean.” As if it had ever been dirty. “It is clean, and I just proved it,” I said, pointing at the Uniprint he held in his hand. He glanced at my fingerprint, tapped his desk, and then looked at me. “My apologies, Skylar. That you did.”

30 The Final Clue After school, I had to do something to get my mind off Emelyn and Pat, so I decided to work on the clues I found under the greenhouse floor. A leaf, a buckle, a dead flower, a measuring tape, a packet of seeds, and some twine. What did they mean? Once again, Xandra had me stumped. I felt like I knew how her mind worked after following so many of her clues, but this one was a real puzzle. Leaf, buckle, flower, measuring tape, seeds, twine. Some of those were things you could wear: a twine belt with a buckle, a flower in your hair. But what did that tell me about where Xandra had hidden her jewelry box? Did the kidnappers have it? Did she have it on her? Where was Xandra anyway? I walked past Smack into the backyard and felt his eyes drilling holes in my back the whole way. Whatever. He didn’t know what I was doing and he wouldn’t be able to follow the clues I’d found if he watched me and took notes. If they thought putting poop on my makeup and sticking a dead rat in my drawer like a bunch of third graders was going to slow me down they were wrong. They were just trying to scare me, and it wasn’t working. Not enough to stop me, anyway. I sat down on the bench in the gazebo and stared into the rusty box. The buckle was made of metal. It was hard and sturdy. The twine was braided with four thin strands of golden fiber. Long and strong. The aged flower and leaf were unlike the buckle and twine. They were frail. Fragile. Dead. Decomposing. Turning to dust. The exact opposite of the nasturtium seeds: life, promise, growth, beginnings. I unrolled the measuring tape. It was made of cloth covered with cracked yellow plastic and had numbers and lines printed on it. The end of it was missing. Someone had cut off the tape at five feet, eight inches. What did it all mean? Was that Xandra’s height? I picked up the packet of nasturtium seeds and turned it over in my hands. The edges were stained light brown and were starting to peel apart. I looked at the red, orange, and yellow flowers pictured on the package. “Why would anyone need nasturtium seeds in Santa Monica when they grow wild all over the place?” I asked myself. “Unless—nasturtiums are a clue.” I looked back toward the house. Smack was standing in the doorway, staring at me. I waved and

smiled, showing all of my teeth. Like I was just a dumb kid, playing. He turned around and went inside. I gently peeled open the top of the envelope. The glue had completely dried out and the packet opened easily. When I peeked inside, my knees jiggled up and down with excitement. There was a message written on the inside of the seed packet in a spidery black scrawl. It looked like it was written with the same fine- point felt pen that drew the footstep map. “Office!” I said to myself, rushing out of the gazebo and running across the yard. This could be the final clue! I thought, racing past Smack and bounding up the stairs to my room. Grabbing the banister, I pulled myself up the spiral staircase to my office and spun into my desk chair. Opening the rusty metal box, I tipped the lid back so I would have a container to pour the seeds into. I tilted the packet and the tan seeds bounced over each other as they rolled into the lid like dried-out raisins. Then something tinkled as metal hit metal. I sucked in my breath and picked up a tiny gold key. I knew what it would unlock. If only I could find it. Turning my attention back to the empty seed packet, I ran my letter-opener gently between the seams until I had them all peeled apart. I spread the packet flat on my desk and read the message that was written inside. Congratulations. If you are the smart, brave soul who followed clues to locate this box rather than stumbling on it by accident, you know exactly what this key unlocks. Your final challenge is to put these last clues together in the proper order, pinpoint the exact location, then use the key. At the end of the rope you will find the beginning of new adventure. Good luck. And it was signed, Xandra Collins. By the time I finished reading Xandra’s note my heart was racing. “It is the key to her jewelry box,” I breathed, staring into the confusing collection of clues. If only I can figure out where she hid it. I ran my fingers over the buckle, the twine, and the measuring tape, then dropped the seeds into an envelope and put it in my desk. Opening the secret compartment behind the middle drawer, I hid the golden key. My office was stuffy. I needed some fresh air to clear my head. Running back down to my bedroom I looked at the clock. 5 p.m. Quitting time. Two seconds later I heard Smack’s truck start and rumble down our hill. Excellent. I hurried down the stairs and ran outside. Carried the box into the backyard and set the contents on the grass. First I uncoiled the twine and tugged it into in a

straight line. Then I measured it using the broken tape. The twine was twelve- and-a-half feet long. Jogging over to the guardrail, I stood at the very beginning of it and looked down its length as it curved around our yard. Then I bent over the railing and stared down into the canyon, the black metal cool underneath my fingers. Yellow-flowering mustard weeds sprouted in between jagged boulders. Nasturtiums grew in puffy clumps. Their bright yellow, red, and orange blossoms peeked out from between round leaves that looked like pale green lily pads. The mustard plants had broad green leaves with curvy edges. I remembered learning how to identify plants during botany in Mr. Bidden’s class. Suddenly I caught my breath and looked back into the box of clues. The crumbling brown leaf had the same shape as the leaves on the mustard weeds. The dead flower had tiny shriveled petals attached to its withered stem. They grew in clusters, just like mustard flowers. I picked it up and sniffed the petals to see if I smelled mustard, but they just smelled like dust. Pulling the twine up off the grass, I held onto one end and tossed the rest of it over the railing. The end of it dangled near some mustard weeds. “But which one is the right plant?” I said aloud, running next to the railing and looking over. There must have been hundreds of batches of weeds and flowers growing next to and around each other. “How far down the guardrail do I—” I stopped in my tracks and raced back to the part of the yard where I’d left the measuring tape and snatched it up. “Five feet, eight inches,” I said breathlessly. Starting at the far end of the guardrail, I measured off five feet, eight inches. I held one end of the twine and tossed the other end over the edge. The end stopped at a boulder that jutted out of the mountainside. No mustard weeds. No flowers. “That’s not it.” Running down to the other end of the guardrail, I measured five feet, eight inches down the rail and threw the end of the twine over the railing. The end dangled twelve-and-a-half feet down the canyon side and landed right at a thick batch of mustard plants. They were entwined with flowering nasturtium vines. Was Xandra’s jewelry box just twelve-and-a-half feet out of my reach? Hanging over the railing, I imagined trying to climb down the hillside without plunging into the canyon and breaking my neck. There was no way I could do it by myself. If my mom thought riding the dumbwaiter was dangerous she would completely lose it if I tried this. And I had no time to waste. I had to try to find the jewels before Smack and his boys came back or my parents got home from work. Yanking the phone out of my pocket, I speed-dialed Alexa. “Hey Skylar, what’s—”

I didn’t let her finish. “I know where Xandra’s jewelry box is.” “What?” she shrieked. “You found it?” “Not exactly. What’s your brother doing right now?” “Big or little?” “Big. Ronnie. Is he home?” “Yeah, I think he’s in the gara—” “Can he come over right now and help me get the box?” “Probably. I’m sure he’ll help.” “Go get him. And hurry—we need to do this before my parents get home.” “What are we going—” “Tell him to bring his rock-climbing gear. I’m in the backyard. Hurry!” While I waited for Ronnie, I used a sharp rock to scratch a mark into the railing at the spot where the measuring tape ended. Suddenly I flinched. I’d heard something. Like a bush rustling, as if a small animal were climbing through it. Or a large human was hiding behind it. My head whipped around and I looked into the corners of my backyard. It felt like someone was watching me. Moments later I knew I was right. Two round lenses were spying on me from behind the hedge in the neighbor’s yard that backed to ours. Binoculars. With one brown eye looking through them? As soon as I started to walk toward them to get a closer look, the lenses disappeared. Our neighbor’s bushes were thick and I couldn’t see anything except movement: a thin figure, sprinting away from his hiding place. Knowing he was busted. Who was spying on me? Someone from Crew Gang? Who else could it be? The next-door neighbor had recommended Smack, and now one of his boys could be hiding in their yard. Were our neighbors plotting with them to find the hidden jewels? Is that why those creeps were referred to us in the first place? A chill crept up my spine. No time to follow up on it now. Ronnie’s truck rumbled up the hill and stopped. I jogged back over to the fence and spotted his carrot-colored hair as he came through our side yard. He held a helmet and a pair of gloves and had a thick coil of rope over his shoulder. “Skylar!” Alexa shouted, running up to me. “I knew you could do it.” “So, little Skylar Robbins found the famous missing jewelry box?” Ronnie teased, dropping his rope on the grass. “Not yet,” I admitted, “but I think I know where it is. Thanks for coming over.” I’d never been so glad to see anyone in my whole life. “No problem.” He scratched his head as he looked around our backyard.

“So? Why’d you want me to bring my gear?” “Because I’m pretty sure the box is twelve-and-a-half feet down there,” I said, pointing over the railing. I lowered my voice. “By the way, did you see anyone run out of my neighbor’s yard when you pulled up?” He looked at me like I’d just guessed his birthday out of thin air. “Yeah. A skinny Hispanic guy. How’d you know?” Ignado. Crew Gang was watching me. This chilled me for a second but I shook it off, hoping to hear a truck going down the hill like an animal crawling away with its tail between its legs. “Just a hunch. Hurry! We have jewels to find.” “Nobody told me to bring anything to dig with,” he said, looking at Alexa like it was her fault. He attached a harness around his waist and thighs. Its buckles matched the one in the rusty metal box. “You think it’s just gonna be sitting there on a rock or something?” “I have no idea,” I admitted. “But if I put the clues together right, it’s five feet eight inches from the end of the railing and twelve-and-a-half feet down, marked by nasturtiums and mustard weeds. This is twelve-and-a-half feet of twine,” I said, showing it to him. Then I tied one end to the railing at the spot I’d scratched with the rock, and flung the other end over the side and down into the canyon. “I think you’re supposed to climb down the hillside, and when you get to the end of the twine you’ll be in the right spot.” I glanced into the neighbor’s yard behind mine. Nothing moved. The street was quiet. Too quiet. Alexa looked at me like I was a genius, and then turned toward her brother. “See? She knows where it is.” Ronnie tied his much thicker rope to the railing with a complicated knot, and attached the other end to his harness. Then he put on his helmet and a pair of thick gloves and jerked hard on the railing several times. “I want to be sure this thing can bear my weight,” he explained. “I think we’re good.” Alexa stood right next to me and we watched her brother throw his legs over the railing and then slowly climb down the hillside, gripping the rope tightly. The muscles in his freckled arms bulged, and his blue helmet looked smaller as he neared the spot where the twine ended. “No wonder you wanted Ronnie to come over, Skylar. You would have killed yourself trying to do this on your own.” “I know. I learned my lesson when I got stuck in the dumbwaiter.” “Hey!” Ronnie yelled. We leaned over the railing. He’d braced his feet against the hillside and was looking up at us. “Did you find it?” I shouted. “No, but I found something.” Wrapping the rope tightly around his left hand,

he thrashed his right hand around, batting thick mustard weeds and skinny nasturtium vines out of his way. “On the side of the hill right here, someone spray-painted a black X on a rock.” A huge smile spread across my face and I shouted, “Yes!” at the sky. A minute later I heard the sound of a motorcycle ripping down our hill.

31 Xandra Collins’s Jewels I barely made it through school on Friday, I was so nervous about what would happen at my house afterward. Not to mention that Ignado might have seen Robbie find the X on the hillside. If he did, then Crew Gang knew where Xandra’s jewels were hidden too. And that meant they were planning something. Alexa’s mom dropped us off and we ran inside to get ready. “Your house looks great,” Alexa said, following me through the entryway. I looked around. Smack and his boys were nowhere in sight. “Thanks. Those creeps actually did a good job. Hopefully they won’t show up any time soon.” Just then my mom rushed up to us. “Skylar,” she said, “the news crew will be here any minute. Hurry up and change.” My dad had put gel in his hair and wore one of his best suits for the cameras. “The crane’s already here, but I’m not sure about the rock-climber,” he said, heading for the backyard. I hated the formal dress my mom insisted I wear, and I begged her to let me choose another outfit. “But Mom, I solved the whole case and figured out where Xandra’s jewelry box is buried. Shouldn’t I be allowed to wear whatever I want on TV?” Suddenly this was just as important as whatever Smack and Ignado were up to. “You’re going to be interviewed, Skylar. Don’t you want to look professional on the news? Everyone will be watching.” I thought about this. “It’s your first opportunity to introduce your detective agency. You don’t want to look too casual.” She got me with that one. “You’re right.” As I ran upstairs to change I heard the doorbell ring. I put on the dress and brushed my hair, and by the time I flew back down the stairs the living room had started to fill up with people. Alexa sat on our couch with her hands folded in her lap, watching the camera crew set up with an excited smile on her face. I hurried across the room and sat right next to her. “I’m so nervous,” I admitted. And it wasn’t just because of the interview. “Don’t worry, Sky, you look beautiful and you’ll kick butt. Like you always do,” she said confidently. “Thanks for inviting me to come watch.” I turned to face her. “You sure you don’t want to get up there with me?” I asked for the third time. “You were the one who figured out where the map started,” I reminded her. “I wouldn’t have found out where the jewelry box was buried without your help. And Ronnie’s.”

“No way.” Alexa shrunk back into the couch. “I’m not making a fool of myself in front of any cameras.” Then she paused, and a new expression bloomed on her face. “Actually,” she said thoughtfully, “if there’s something short you want me to read off a cue card I could probably handle it.” She looked at me and opened her fingers, showing me the squishy ball in her left hand. “I have no idea what they’re going to ask me either. But if they call you up there I know you’ll do great.” We locked pinkies, and held on for a minute before we pulled them apart. Another caravan of cars drove up our hill, fighting for spots along the side of our driveway. A blonde newswoman strolled into the room, picking out my mom and me. She walked up to us with her hand thrust forward and a big fake smile on her face. “I’m Trina Bradshaw from AFX,” she announced. Trina had so much makeup on that she looked like a clown. “And you must be the little girl who solved the mystery.” I stared at her and didn’t smile back. Since I was the one who had figured out where Xandra buried her jewels after adults had failed for three years, I didn’t appreciate being called a little girl. Not to mention outsmarting a gang of construction workers who had monster tools and access to our entire house. Who were probably watching us at this very minute. “I’m Skylar Robbins,” I said, shaking her hand. “Of the Skylar Robbins Detective Agency.” “Oh aren’t you cute?” she said, squeezing out another fake smile. That did it. “I’m not a cute little girl. I’m a detective,” I corrected her. “Skylar,” my mom warned. “Manners.” “That’s perfectly OK.” My dad stuck up for me. “She’s right. Let them get it correct on the news.” He nodded at me, and then walked back outside to supervise the television crew. “Let’s go see what’s going on in the backyard,” Alexa suggested. “Good idea.” I lowered my voice. “I have to talk to you.” We hurried outside and I filled her in as I walked. “I think Smack’s guys know I’m about to find the jewels. I spotted binoculars through the bushes when Robbie found the X. One of them was spying on me from the neighbor’s yard.” “Seriously?” Alexa clamped her hand over her mouth and then took it away and stared right at me. “What do you want me to do?” “Keep your eye on the street,” I said, looking around. “And if you see any of the guys from the crew approach the house or if I give you the signal, call 9-1-1 and tell them there’s an attempted robbery in progress. If Smack’s guys don’t try to take the jewels I’ll tell the cops it was a false alarm.” “What’s the signal?”

“9-1-1 in sign language.” I touched my index finger to my thumb for 9, then held up my first finger twice with my palm facing forward. “Got it.” We walked farther into the yard and heard the crane driver, Bob Blare, arguing with my dad. He called the box at the top of the crane the “cherry picker.” This was where a cameraman would sit and film the guy who dug into the mountainside. Bob wanted to get the cherry picker as close to the edge of the railing as possible, and my dad was afraid the crane would ruin our lawn. He was probably right, but once we had dug up Xandra Collins’s jewels I didn’t think losing a few blades of grass would really matter. I wished I were up in the cherry picker right now. I could see into our neighbor’s yard and figure out if Sledge, Dusty, or Ignado were spying on us, waiting for me to find the jewelry box so they could rip it out of my hands. Leaning to my right, I peeked through the side yard and tried to see past our house and out toward the street. Nothing suspicious seemed to be going on. Yet. A balding guy with a big forehead rode over to the guardrail on a little tractor. He wore headphones and held a long pole with a microphone on the end of it, so I guessed he was the soundman. The mic was padded and he called the whole thing “the boom.” My dad winced as his tractor left tracks in our new grass. Two cute guys holding big white discs walked over to the metal railing next. The taller one had big eyes that were dark blue like mine. “You the girl who figured out the mystery?” He ran his hand casually through his slippery blond hair, and it fell back across his forehead. “Yeah,” I said, looking across the canyon. Then I smiled back at him. “I’m Skylar Robbins.” “I’m Mac. This is Johnny.” Mac had nice teeth. Johnny shook my hand, and then held up his disc, tilting it at slightly different angles. “What are those?” I asked. “Photoflex Litediscs. To reflect the light onto you so we can get a good picture. Johnny, tilt yours back more. Stop right now. The light’s perfect.” Mac smiled at me. “You look great.” “Thanks,” I said, trying not to blush. Mac was almost as cute as Dustin. But not quite. The cameraman who was ready to film my interview was named Gordon. He was a thin Latino with twinkling brown eyes and a dimple. Trina Bradshaw rushed around frantically with Gordon at her side while the director bellowed orders at Tom and the guys with the Litediscs. Everyone wore headsets or wireless earpieces. Cell phones rang constantly and walkie-talkies chirped. I had

never been so excited. I couldn’t believe all of this was because of me! My parents walked over to me and my dad squeezed my shoulder. He smiled, crinkling his eyes, and then looked at me tenderly. “I am so proud of you.” “And so am I,” my mom said, smiling warmly at me. “Thanks, Mom.” I held out my arms for a hug. “I’m glad you suggested this dress,” I whispered as she hugged me back. “You figured out Xandra Collins’s clues and used your brain to piece together a complicated puzzle. At the same time, you stood up to the bullies at your school, and never compromised your standards. You’re the best daughter a parent could ask for.” “And you’re a heck of a good detective,” my dad added. “That’s for sure,” my mom agreed, making me smile. For a minute. I hoped they would still feel the same way if Crew Gang barged in and tried to steal the jewels, ruining everything. I imagined a violent fight: Smack and Ignado against Mac and Johnny, with my dad rushing in to break it up, all caught live on AFX for the evening news. Trina Bradshaw hustled over. “We’re almost ready to roll. Let’s have you stand still so we can get a reading on the light.” A guy with a fleshy pink face and a big belly came over and held a square light meter right in front of my chest, and then said something to Gordon who nodded from behind the camera. Mac and his buddy tweaked the position of the discs until the guy with the belly said, “That’s it. Right there.” “Cell phones off, everybody,” the director shouted. My mom rushed over to me and pulled my long hair over my shoulders in front. “You look beautiful. Knock ‘em dead.” She walked away as Trina ran back up to me and Gordon started to count backward. “And three, two, and—” He pointed at Trina. “Today we join thirteen-year-old detective Skylar Robbins for the conclusion of a three-year-old mystery concerning the famous Xandra Collins jewelry collection,” Trina Bradshaw gushed. “The excavation crew is ready and waiting for your instructions, Skylar.” Trina was all teeth. “First, tell the world how you figured it out.” She stuck the microphone right up to my mouth and I smelled her sour breath on its fuzzy black cover. I cleared my throat and looked into the camera. My stomach had never been jumpier, and I almost would have given up the backwards dance to get out of doing this interview. But then I thought of the future of my detective agency and tried to ignore my nerves. “I just followed the clues that Xandra Collins left. One led to the next and it was really pretty simple. I couldn’t believe in three years that her heirs never figured it out.”

Trina smiled. “Witness the genius of Skylar Robbins! Walk us through your search for the jewels.” Trina stuck her microphone back under my lips and waited for me to tell my story. I looked back into the camera and took a deep breath. “After we moved in I noticed fingerprints on the windowsill in the room at the top of the turret, and they led me to an empty cupboard. I used the black light from my detective kit and found a note on the wall that Xandra Collins had written in invisible ink.” While I told my story, a photographer took shots of me while Gordon filmed my interview. Another cameraman sat in the crane and waited by the railing with the digger. A tan, muscular guy named Vladimir held a shovel and a bucket of tools. He had ragged light brown hair and crooked teeth, and he spoke with an accent. Talking into the microphone, I described the dumbwaiter and the pile of boxes, the footprint map, and the bird’s nest clue. “How did you end up at the edge of this cliff?” Trina Bradshaw asked. I waited while the crane made noise as the cherry picker carried the second cameraman out over the side of the mountain. When I turned to look at the camera, I thought I saw a round shape reflecting out of the next-door neighbor’s bushes. Could it be Ignado’s binoculars—spying on me again? As soon as I focused on it, the image vanished. I shook my head and stared, but there was nothing there. Maybe my imagination was playing tricks on me. Forcing my eyes away, I tried not to stammer as I kept talking into the microphone. “I wouldn’t have found the location without the help of my smart best friend, Alexa O’Reilly. I couldn’t tell where the map started, but she looked into the backyard from a window in the turret and figured it out. Once she told me where to take the first step, I followed the footprints on the map, and they led me to a rusty metal box that was buried underneath the floor in the greenhouse.” Looking over the heads of the film crew, I spotted Alexa standing with my mom. Her mouth dropped open and she clamped her hand over it when I said her name and gave her credit for helping me figure out where the jewels were buried. I hoped when this interview was broadcast on TV that Dustin and Brendan would see it. Not to mention Emelyn Peters, Pat Whitehead, and all of the other kids who made fun of Alexa and didn’t recognize how intelligent she really was. She promised to make sure her parents watched the news when my segment aired. Alexa’s dad needed to hear how his daughter used her brains to help me solve the mystery. It was time he realized that Alexa was trying as hard as she could, and that she was smart, even though she had trouble reading and spelling. “Inside the box there was a leaf, a buckle, a flower, a torn measuring tape, a packet of nasturtium seeds, and some twine,” I continued. “How did those clues lead you to this mountainside?” Trina smiled like an

overgrown Barbie. I looked past the camera at Gordon and he gave me an encouraging nod. “When I studied the clues in the box, I realized that the edges of the dead leaf had the same curvy shape as the leaves on the yellow-flowering weeds at the base of those boulders.” I pointed down the hillside. “The dried-up flower had little dead petals on it that used to be mustard flowers. Inside the packet of nasturtium seeds there was a tiny gold key, and a note from Xandra Collins that said if I put the clues together and found the key I knew what it would unlock.” Opening my hand, I revealed the little key. As Gordon zoomed in for a close-up, I heard a motorcycle climbing slowly up the hill. So did everyone else. Trina dropped the microphone down by her side and waited for it to pass. It didn’t. It stopped. My nightmare was about to come true —right while I was being filmed for the six o’clock news. Alexa looked at me and I gave her a little nod, so scared I felt numb. She hurried into the side yard for a look at the street. “And that’s the key to Xandra Collins’s jewelry box?” Trina continued, showing her teeth. She had no idea that a much more exciting event was unfolding just beyond the reach of her camera and microphone. I gulped dryly and tried to work up some saliva so I could continue. “That’s also when I realized what the twine was for. Her jewelry box is buried in the hillside,” I said, wondering what was going on out front, and hoping Alexa was safe. “The torn measuring tape stops at five feet, eight inches. I tied a twelve- and-a-half-foot length of twine five feet, eight inches down the guardrail. Vladimir needs to climb down the side of the canyon right by the twine. At the very end of it he’ll see a mustard plant and nasturtiums. There is a black X spray- painted on the rocks behind them. That’s where he needs to dig into the hillside and look for the box.” Just then Alexa raced into the backyard, looking terrified. Pointing at the door, she flexed the muscles in both of her arms. I knew exactly what she meant: Crew gang was back. More determined than ever to snatch Xandra’s jewels. I signed, 9-1-1. Alexa nodded and ran into the house to call the police. Sledge and Ignado could be on their way up to our front door right now. What if they had weapons? Once I found Xandra’s jewelry box, would Smack wrestle it out of my hands at gunpoint and then zoom down the hill, carrying it away on his motorcycle? Was this case about to end in a giant fail? Trina wasn’t about to let her prime-time piece get interrupted by some street noise. She grabbed my arm in an iron grip, grinning over her shoulder at the camera. “Show us where you found the next clue, Detective Skylar,” she

demanded, and we headed toward the edge of the cliff. The cameraman moved over to the guardrail and the director yelled, “Action!” Tom bent over the side of the railing, aiming the boom down the steep canyon wall. Vladimir climbed into a harness that was attached to Tom’s tractor with a thick cable and a huge metal clamp. He stepped over the guardrail and let himself slowly down the hillside, sliding one hand down the cable and holding a bucket of tools in his other, gritting his crooked teeth. When he got to the end of the twine he was in front of the patch of mustard plants and nasturtiums. He batted them around like Ronnie had until he spotted the X. My eyes whipped back and forth between the camera and my house as I tried not to panic. Alexa ran back into the yard and fingerspelled something to me in sign language with her eyes open wide: C-O-P-S. She pointed her index fingers out, and then whipped them toward her body: COMING. I heard a faint siren growing louder, and signed, GO SEE. Trina looked at the director and made a slashing motion across her throat. “Cut!” the director shouted. Everyone stopped and waited for the siren to pass. Except it didn’t. Alexa gaped at me as the siren made one last loud whoop and shut down. A cop car had just stopped right in front of our house. The director’s head whipped back and forth as he looked at me and then toward the side yard, as if he was hoping to see what was going on in the street. Trina glared at him as if having the camera on her was much more important than someone getting a ticket. His cheeks turned red as he yelled, “Roll film!” and Trina put the microphone up to my mouth. “That’s exactly where he needs to start digging,” I said, looking at her and then into the camera, dying to know what was happening out front. Hoping the cops would catch Ignado and Smack before they barged into our yard and demanded that we hand over the jewels. Vladimir spread his legs, pressing his shoes against the hillside. He grabbed a shovel and started to dig into the mountain. Gordon caught it all on film while everyone waited impatiently, some talking intensely on tiny cells. A minute later Vladimir waved his hand and called for everyone’s attention. “Cell phones off,” the director yelled again. I stared at the gate. What was happening in the street?! Reaching into one of the holes he had dug, Vladimir gently scraped the earth away using a small pick and a brush. The cameraman in the cherry picker zoomed in for a close-up. “I’m finding somezing,” Vladimir announced. A guy wearing a headset shouted, “I need better audio!” and Tom aimed the boom down the steep canyon wall. Looking toward the street, I tried not to panic. No one had burst through the side yard gate. Yet.

Trina stuck her stinky microphone into my face. “Well, Skylar, what do you think?” I took a deep breath and swallowed my fear. “I think he’s about to dig up Xandra Collins’s jewels.” Moments later, Vladimir reached into the hole he had dug, and his hand came out holding a box wrapped in dirty plastic. After resting the box in the bucket with his tools, he climbed back up the hillside and vaulted over the guardrail. I knew he would let me open the box in front of the cameras, since this had been a part of the contract with AFX that my father had insisted on. Vladimir handed me Xandra Collins’s jewelry box. “It is yours.” Trina looked at me triumphantly and said, “AFX is proud to capture this historic moment, LIVE!” I tore off the plastic bag. Curling designs were carved into rich, dark wood. There was a gold lock on the front of the box with a tiny keyhole. “Any last words from the Skylar Robbins Detective Agency?” she asked, and I nodded. I cradled the heavy box in my hands. The microphone appeared in front of my mouth, and I smiled, holding up the key. “Case closed.” The director yelled, “Cut!” Trina Bradshaw motioned frantically, and Tom and Gordon hurried right over. “We need a nice tight shot of her opening up the box,” she snapped, using her raspy, everyday voice. Mac and his friend angled the Litediscs around until the guy holding the light meter in front of me nodded. AFX was ready to roll. “This is the end of a three-year search for Xandra Collins’s jewels,” Trina announced. “AFX is honored to be the first to capture this on film. Just moments ago, excavation expert Vladimir Azarov dug into this mountainside after following the clues that Skylar Robbins figured out, and he retrieved Xandra Collins’s missing jewelry box. So if you are ready, Skylar, let’s see what’s inside!” Then we heard a gunshot, and Alexa screamed.

32 The Skylar Robbins Detective Agency “CUT!” the director yelled, as booted feet crunched across gravel and harsh shouts sounded from the street. Trina and the cameraman sprinted through the side yard to film the breaking story that was unfolding in front of my house. My parents ran toward the side yard and I followed them, wobbling on my heels. We all rushed into the street and came to a screeching halt right behind Alexa. “Skylar!” she shouted, pointing. A buff black cop had Smack pinned to the ground on his stomach—hog-tied with his feet and hands bound together up above his back. Smack’s face was twisted in anger and fear. Alexa grabbed my arm and tried to catch her breath. “He had a gun! He was slipping through your neighbor’s yard. Ready to run into yours. The guy with the bad eye had a knife in his hand! They tried to get away on their Harleys but the cops had them boxed in.” “Thanks for calling the police.” I smiled, remembering Grandpa’s words: Criminals don’t bother with houses in cul-de-sacs. They don’t want to get trapped with no way out. Unless there’s a zillion dollar’s worth of diamonds at stake, and they think they’re smarter than everyone else. Smack hadn’t thought he’d get trapped at the end of our street with no possible way to escape. Alexa nodded. “The cops said a group called The Wilkerson Boys, P.I. were watching the house and called them right before I did. Sounds like some of your secret agents?” I nodded. Alexa wiped sweat off her forehead and took another big breath. “So the police got here right when Smack was about to break in.” “Who fired the gun?” I asked. “Smack. At one of the cops! He missed.” “So glad you all had my back,” I said, grabbing Alexa in a quick hug. Gordon and Trina ran out into the street, right behind my mom. I looked at Smack’s motorcycle. A cop with a brown moustache had Ignado bent over it with his hands cuffed behind his back. Trina rushed up to the officer. “Please give us an update on this breaking news,” she demanded, and then stuck her mike under his nose. He smelled it and winced. Alexa and I moved closer so we could hear him. “Caught these two jokers just as they were about to run through the side yard. Both were armed and dangerous. Stand back, please,” he said, and then he read Ignado and Smack their Miranda rights. I knew them by heart, and mouthed them along with the cop with a little smile on my face. “You have the right to

remain silent. Anything you say or do may be held against you in a court of law.” Moments later they were loaded into the back of a police van. My mom watched them sail down the hill with her mouth open. I followed her back into the yard with Alexa next to me, muttering, “Oh my God, did you see that, Skylar? Oh my God.” “I knew it,” I said, trying not to look at my mom. Too late. She grabbed my arm and spun me around so I was facing her. “What do you mean, you knew it? What do you know about this, Skylar?” “Smack and his gang. I knew they were up to no good,” I finally admitted, taking a deep breath and blowing it out. “How did you know, and why didn’t you say something?” My mom dragged her hands through her hair and looked like she wanted to strangle me. Gulp. “I didn’t have any proof, and they hadn’t really done anything yet.” Except threaten me with a dead rodent. But I knew they were after Xandra’s jewelry box too. And I wasn’t going to let them win. “So I had to let the cops catch them in the act. And I just did,” I said, waiting nervously for my mom’s reply. She looked at me angrily, and then she relaxed a little and sighed. “OK. I am glad you let the police handle it,” she said. “But you should have told us that you suspected those men were up to no good much earlier.” “I know, Mom. And I’m sorry.” This time I really did mean it. I had a feeling some punishment might be in my immediate future. And I probably deserved every bit of it. I planned to tell her all of the details later and accept the consequences. “And I think the neighbors,” I lowered my voice and pointed with my eyes to the house behind the hedges, “might have been in on it.” “What? Why?” “Because they recommended them for one, and I think Ignado has been spying on me from behind their bushes.” She stared at the tall shrubs separating our yards as if someone might pop out of them at any second. They remained still. My mom looked like she was calculating something. “Well, we can ask the police to investigate that, but that’s some pretty flimsy evidence.” I nodded, “You’re right. I’m just glad those crooks got busted. And best of all, I found Xandra’s jewels!” Her eyes softened and she folded me into a hug. Then she smiled. It was pretty exciting! “OK, chop chop, people,” Trina called, snapping her fingers. Back to business.